


Top Comment

by Dumb_Scotticus



Category: Cancer Crew
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon-typical language, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Pre-Slash, Slurs, come on its these fuckers of course theres gonna be slurs, not slow burn but has slow burn adjacent tropery, nothing too terrible and almost entirely ones i can reclaim anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-06-15 08:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15408660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dumb_Scotticus/pseuds/Dumb_Scotticus
Summary: Ian points out something in an old vlog. Max notices the top comment on said vlog.Max and Ian should totally just get an apartment together in LA like Matt and Ryan have. imagine all the crazy shit they could get up to if they lived together lolMax gets an idea, and it escalates (maybe a little too quickly for Ian's taste) from there.





	1. There's No Content Cop On Markiplier

**Author's Note:**

> dont ask me what the housing situation is currently. assume whatever you want. also their respective girlfriends arent a thing in this because i make the rules and i dont want to write them being hurt because they dont deserve it.

“Hey, Max, come look at this!” Ian calls after laughing for a few seconds, and Max plods over from the kitchen to where Ian sits in a swiveling chair, his laptop on a desk. “Here, look, I was watching an old Vidcon vlog that Mark uploaded--” Ian begins, getting interrupted by a loud snort from Max’s direction.

“Are you gonna start watching Five Nights At Freddy’s let’s plays and talking to the screen? Since when do you care about Markiplier?” Max laughs incredulously.

“Well, there was the time I was going to make a Content Cop on him,” Ian shrugs.

Max scoffs. “His videos might be garbage made for little kids, but he's way too nice of a guy to make a video on,” Max points out.

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I never did one, cunt.” Max rolls his eyes at the affectionate insult. “Hang on, lemme pull up the video…” Ian says, and plays the video back. He skips ahead in the video a few times before pointing out the shot of Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, and those two guys that used to edit for him (What were their names again? Ray and Mike? Weren’t they with the Game Grumps now or something? Ian doesn’t particularly care, but he makes a mental note to scope it out for potential drama just in case he does make a video on Mark.) “See?” he says, “There’s me and George in the background, and there’s you making the most retarded fucking neanderthal face I’ve ever seen.”

Max isn’t paying attention. Instead, he's reading the top comment on the video.

_Max and Ian should totally just get an apartment together in LA like Matt and Ryan have. imagine all the crazy shit they could get up to if they lived together lol._

Max actually finds himself mulling over the thought. He begins to read it aloud, but Ian’s already scrolling down the page.

“Hey, hey, hold on, lemme finish reading that!” Max protests, trying to grab at Ian’s mouse.

“What? It’s a stupid fucking Youtube comment, how interesting could it be?” Ian retorts, already closing the tab.

“It was a neat idea, Go back!” Max says, shoving Ian’s hands away from the keyboard and pressing CTRL+SHIFT+T. The page for the video pops back up, and Max reads out the comment as Ian leans back in his chair with a creak. “See? Someone said we should move in together in LA!”

“...So?”

“ _So_ it’s a cool idea! We should totally get an apartment together, maybe even with Chad too or something if we’re desperate, so the fat fucker can split rent with us.”

“Why just us?”

“Well, George is doin’ his own stuff now, he’s not making any more Frank videos. He’s focusing on his music and stuff…”

“What, have you considered this before?”

“N-no! Well, I mean, a little bit, yeah,” Max admits, scratching at the side of his face, “But, like– c’mon, it’d be super cool! We can do more collabs and stuff, and we’d be able to hang out without you taking a fucking plane over here. We’ll just live in LA for the rest of forever, dude!”

“So how are you getting citizenship?” Ian points out.

“Oh, fuck. I forgot about that,” Max says, eyebrows furrowing. “Well, I’m White. I’m sure The Don would let me in no problem,” he jokes.

“If only it were that easy,” Ian says with just a slight wistfulness.

“‘ _If only?_ ’” Repeats Max, “You fuckin’ gay or somethin’, mate?” He continues as Ian lowers his eyebrows, “Oh, if only Max could come run away with me to America, we could have gay sex on Bunker Hill and get married after one night in Vegas!” Shouts Max in a falsetto, clasping his hands together.

Ian frowns at this, forcefully suppressing any possible hint of color in his cheeks as he replies. “Do you even know where Bunker Hill is?” He questions, adjusting his glasses with the side of his knuckle.

Max makes a dismissive noise and scrunches up his face.

“No,” He responds plainly. Ian sighs out a laugh and whirls around in his chair to face Max. He looks him in the eye for a couple seconds before lightly slapping his cheek and getting up.

“Where are you going, you cheeky cunt?!” Shouts Max, rubbing his cheek.

“I have to piss,” Ian responds as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“Well… Well, think about what I said while you're in there, you prick!” Max says. He chooses not to acknowledge the turning in his stomach or how warm he feels when he thinks about having an apartment with Ian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would say "dont expect more on this for a while" but i honestly dont know the next time ill update this. could be a week, could be a month. soz.
> 
> also the vlog referenced in this may or may not exist, i didnt bother to check. all i know is mark, jack, matt, and ryan are in the background of one of ian's vlogs and it looks like theyre filming something. i dont watch mark or jack's content so i honestly have no idea lmao. use your suspension of disbelief. 
> 
> tumblr: maxian.co.vu or vinnoel.tumblr.com


	2. Max's First Attempt At Citizenship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey fuckers. 
> 
> first of all im sorry for leaving this fic hanging for so god damnlong....  
> i was working on it at the beach during the summer and now im working on it in a sweater while prepping for halloween.
> 
> i also got really sidetracked by vinesauce so i havent been as into cancer crew as of late, especially with the complete lack of content featuring all of them lol.
> 
> anywho, this chapters a bit longer than the first one and it actually has kissing! so i hope you enjoy that.

Max’s bathroom smells surprisingly nice, and Ian notices a plug-in air freshener as he washes his hands. He smiles warmly, catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Seeing such a genuine smile on his own face merely at the thought of Max– and especially such an inane thing to smile at– sets off a small, dull panic alarm in the back of his brain. He smiles at Max plenty. He’s a funny guy. He’s a good friend. Of course he would smile. But today feels different, and it’s weird. Weird in a way he can’t shrug off, weird in a way that settles its way into Ian’s guts and squirms around demanding to be acknowledged.

Ian opens the door, and there’s a loud thump as Max stumbles to not fall on top of him.

“Sorry,” Max says with amused apology, “I was leaning on the door.”

“What, were you rubbing one out while listening to me piss, you fuckin' voyeur?” Ian snipes. Max laughs in response, following him into the kitchen.

“Really, though, did you think about what I said?” Prompts Max.

“What?” Says Ian, opening Max’s fridge without asking.

“About moving in together in LA or some shit,” Max clarifies, cracking open a beer he had quickly grabbed when Ian opened the refrigerator.

“What, you were serious?” Mocks Ian, grabbing a drink for himself. “Are you seriously making major life decisions based on fuckin’ YouTube comments?”

Max doesn't really have a response to this. He shrugs with a half smile.

“Only if you want me to.”

And for some reason hearing that sentence feels like something is blooming inside of Ian, and he _hates it._

And for some reason saying that sentence makes Max want to curl up and die over how gay it is, but he keeps standing there and staring Ian down until the latter breaks eye contact with a quick swig of beer.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Ian mumbles. Max deflates slightly, taking a long, lazy drink.

“Well, my main channel has fuckin’ zero content… And the videos with you are always popular,” he prompts.

“That doesn't mean you should move to another fuckin’ country.”

Max pouts. Now he's determined. Ian has given him a challenge, and there's no way he’s going to pussy out now.

“Well, what if I just came down way more often? And I can like, I dunno, chip in for some kind of rent at your place. And I’ll have a bed. Or something.”

“Or something,” repeats Ian, rolling his eyes. “How the fuck are you gonna afford that many plane tickets, dipshit?”

“ _Well_ ,” Max says in an almost-purr that makes Ian frown deeply and tense up, makes him wonder if Max had already chugged a few more beers while he was in the bathroom. “...That wouldn’t be a problem if I just lived there.”

“Max, you fucking retard, you can't just decide to live in America. That’s not how it fucking works,” snaps Ian, and Max is taken aback at how quick to anger he is about this. So of course he keeps pushing.

“Aw, why not?” He whines. “It’d be so _fun!_ ” He smiles up at Ian smugly, both of them completely aware he was just being purposefully annoying at this point, which helps Ian to calm down a bit.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ian says, pointing a finger vaguely at him, “If you can get citizenship, we can live in a big house in LA and make Pokemon slime unboxing videos.”

“Done,” says Max, holding out a hand. Ian slaps it away instead of shaking it, muttering a quiet “fuck off” through laughter.

* * *

They decide to watch some shitty horror movie on Netflix.

They’re both shitfaced by the time Ian notices a hand snaking around his shoulders, and seemingly out of nowhere, Max pulls him in close in one swift movement while some girl gets her leg chopped off on the television. Ian wishes her blood curdling shriek was how he felt in that moment, and he fucking loathes that it’s not.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” He says as evenly as possible. He hopes Max can’t feel how fast his heart is beating.

“Dunno. Earning citizenship I guess.”

“What?”

“Well, y’know, it's fucking hard. I’m not about to waste my time applying for citizenship– And I’m pretty sure they don't want another Youtuber popping over into the states, anyway.”

“...And?”

“Well,” Max says, making a small noise of effort as he scoots even closer. “We can just get married, then.”

Ian tries to make fun of Max. He does. Tries to call him a fag, tries to call him a cunt and a dumb bitch and a retard and… He can’t. Max’s mouth is already uncoordinatedly crashing against his, and even if it wasn’t, he probably still wouldn’t be able to say anything.

Soon, Ian feels a hand clutching his hip bone, and one fidgeting around in the short hair at the nape of his neck. Mostly, though, he feels Max. He feels Max all the fuck over him. He’s completely enveloped in the prick’s scent and the feeling of his skin, his tongue, his lips. Ian finally moves his hands from where they’d been for the last 20 minutes of watching the movie. He twirls some of Max’s hair around a finger, pulling a bit. Max growls playfully and tries to speak around the kiss, ultimately having to pull away.

“Me likey,” Max pants.

“You’re so fucking dumb,” Ian murmurs, and Max isn’t sure if he picked up on a sad tone correctly or not. Ian plants a few quick, heated kisses to Max’s lips, then pulls away. He adjusts his glasses with the side of a finger, pushing them up his face from where they had slipped down.

Kissing Max just felt right, though he’d never use that phrasing. It felt good. It was amazing, and he wanted more. Much more.

So he pulls away. Because Max is shitfaced, he’s only marginally less shitfaced himself, and there’s no fucking way Ian is going to be the guy to wake up in the morning and be told _sorry, I was drunk and it didn’t mean anything, actually_. So he pulls away.

He sits up a little straighter, trying to shake himself out of a haze, gently moving Max’s arms off of him.

“Am I really?” Max slurs. He’s pissed. He’s sad. He’s disappointed. He’s horny.

Ian is not cooperating, and obviously Max has just made a mistake. So he does what he does best when he makes a mistake with Ian.

“Huh?” Ian questions after a moment.

“Dumb? Am I?” He pouts.

Ian lets out a quick puff of laughter.

“Fuck yeah you are. What the shit was that?” Ian says. He’s already grabbing the remote and rewinding the movie to where they were before, and the girl screams again as her leg gets re-chopped off, and Max wishes he were the one bleeding out in a shed while some guy in a ski mask stabbed his corpse. Maybe he’ll get Chad to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy thanks for reading!!! dont expect another update any time soon lmao
> 
> tumblr: vinnoel or maxian.co.vu  
> dreamwidth: scotticus.dreamwidth.org


End file.
